


His hand in her hair

by orphan_account



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-15
Updated: 2014-05-15
Packaged: 2018-01-24 22:14:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1618886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Littlefinger has gotten what he always wanted. Alayne is well trained to pleasure him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	His hand in her hair

**Author's Note:**

> I’ll not offend my feminist sensibilities by calling this “dub-con”. Let’s all be clear that this is rape.

Alayne stood on all fours on the bed. She had her head tilted towards her back so her naked breasts where thrust forward. Petyr Baelish held her in that position by her dark brown hair, so like his. It was twined around his arm, which resting on her unlaced bodice. His hand gripped around her hair at her neck. He sat between her arms and her legs. His other hand was under her skirts, inside her.

She was breathing shallowly, careful not to make any loud sounds. She wasn't in pain, not exactly. Petyr had started slowly as he always did, but by now he used all his fingers. As he slowly moved them in and out the sensation verged on pain. Alayne whimpered. She felt Petyr grip harder around her hair. His breath was shallow as well. It sounded almost devotional.

Finally she felt her muscles _down there_ start to contract. Soon her whole body was shaking, as if she’d somehow caught Lord Robert’s sickness. When her shaking died down Petyr let go of her hair and pulled his hand out of her. Alayne let herself fall face first down into the cushions. She lay with her face pressed into them until she was sure he was done sucking her wetness from his fingers. Then she put a smile on her lips and rolled over to look at him.

“Thank you, father,” she said. She knew he liked it when she said that.

“Ah, sweetling,” he replied, stroking her over her back. “Not at all, not at all. Though now that I think about it, there _is_ something you could do for me. It’d make me _very_ happy. Do you want that, sweetling? Do you want to make me very happy like I just made you very happy?”

“Y-yes, father. What do you want me to do?”

Her word seemed to make him shudder. He closed his eyes and smiled, then he looked back down at her. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. He cleared his throat, but still he couldn't speak. By way of answer he instead unlaced his breeches. He was hasty and careless now, not at like he’d been when he unlaced her bodice. His member almost forced itself out as he undid the ties, already as large as Alayne had ever seen it.

She went down to the floor between his legs. She took a deep breath, and then put her mouth around his member. She didn’t need his directions anymore; she knew how to swirl her tongue, tighten her lips and force down her nausea when he thrust too deep. As always she was very conscious of her teeth, but they didn’t seem to hurt him even when she accidentally grazed him with them. It was over quickly, faster than usual. The bitter, salty liquid filled her mouth, and Alayne forced herself to swallow.

Petyr was groaning, biting his own hand as if to quiet himself. He drew her up to sit on his lap. Then his hand was in her hair again, but this time he was just softly twirling it between his fingers.

“Oh, Cat…” he whispered softly, hugging her.

Alayne blinked back tears.


End file.
